Beneath A Cunning Eye
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
2,529
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
2,529
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
2
Disclaimer: same drill as usual: I own nothing and do not exercise creative control over anything from the Hogwarts/wizarding world. Persephone IS my character. Lyrics are by Maria McKee - listen to her stuff.
********
She was silhouetted against the window, the moon behind her head like a ghostly halo. She seemed to be doing a slow, sinuous dance, and yet he couldn’t recall having seen her move at all. In the spare light, the boy saw her shining copper hair falling across her shoulders and breasts like a gossamer shawl. Then, with a sullen toss of her head, her hair seemed to shimmer like silver, slicing across the curve of her cheek then swinging back to reveal her seashell ear, her marble throat. Trying to keep still, he watched her watching him through half-closed eyes. Her own eyes seemed half closed as she examined him. He felt a faint tickling as she grazed his arm. Her fingers held his wrist as she examined the delicate tracery of veins there, trailing up his arm like branches of a tree. She was taking his hand, tracing the lines in his palm. Prying the clutching fingers apart, she wound her fingers through his. Then, her lips were pressed against his wrist and he could feel the curve of her smile against his skin.
********
I wanted to taste of his skin, feel the salt of his sweat and tears on my tongue. I ran my hand through his untidy hair, unwary. He was not so special, not so different. He was just a man. I could touch him, taste of him, and kiss him sweetly. I made a trail of kisses up his throat, across the curve of his jaw, on the bridge of his nose, on his fiery mark. His eyelids fluttered open, and they were unclouded and alert. He began a slow, fervent whispering in my ear as I pulled him up to be seated. I dropped more kisses across his stomach, across the span of his shoulders. He met my gaze and tilted his head back, arching his neck. I leaned in and gave him a soft kiss on his lips. It tasted of butterbeer and chocolate. Then, I sat beside him on the bed and leaned into him. His throat was so warm beneath my lips and his pulse beat frantically beneath my touch. I opened my mouth and flicked my tongue over the skin. He made a small, sharp, hissing sound. I pressed my lips to the spot.
Then, there was a shout and a figure rushed into the room. The soft, snuffling sounds from the next bed stopped abruptly, and a coppery head peered out from between the silks. The figure had me by the wrist, dragging me away from the bed. His hair slid across his white face, almost obscuring the features completely. My betrayer.
“Not quite gone. Not quite forgotten.” He said archly, a sneer on his face. His robes were open, his chest bare. Where once the skin had been untouched, there was now a web of cuts across his chest, mirroring the scars that I knew spanned his back.
“Persephone.” He spat the word. It was a warning, just that one word. His grip was like steel, and I could feel the hammering of his heart. Not so long before, I had heard the hammering of that heart and felt that touch, a softer touch then, in much pleasanter circumstances. The boy had snatched his wand from the bedside table; his glasses were askew on his nose. The spell had been broken. I turned to the professor, tried to meet his gaze and failed. I tenderly smoothed his hair away from his face. I laid a finger to his lips. A small, cruel smile played on his lips.
“Come, leave him. Your secret is safe with me.” He whispered.
I slipped down the stairs, down the hallway, alone, to cloak myself in shadows once more.
********
“I don’t exist without a lover/fix
And I’m nothing without a heart overstuffed to the brim of bursting
With murder in its wake.”
“Human” by Maria McKee from the album “Life is Sweet” (1996)
********
She was silhouetted against the window, the moon behind her head like a ghostly halo. She seemed to be doing a slow, sinuous dance, and yet he couldn’t recall having seen her move at all. In the spare light, the boy saw her shining copper hair falling across her shoulders and breasts like a gossamer shawl. Then, with a sullen toss of her head, her hair seemed to shimmer like silver, slicing across the curve of her cheek then swinging back to reveal her seashell ear, her marble throat. Trying to keep still, he watched her watching him through half-closed eyes. Her own eyes seemed half closed as she examined him. He felt a faint tickling as she grazed his arm. Her fingers held his wrist as she examined the delicate tracery of veins there, trailing up his arm like branches of a tree. She was taking his hand, tracing the lines in his palm. Prying the clutching fingers apart, she wound her fingers through his. Then, her lips were pressed against his wrist and he could feel the curve of her smile against his skin.
********
I wanted to taste of his skin, feel the salt of his sweat and tears on my tongue. I ran my hand through his untidy hair, unwary. He was not so special, not so different. He was just a man. I could touch him, taste of him, and kiss him sweetly. I made a trail of kisses up his throat, across the curve of his jaw, on the bridge of his nose, on his fiery mark. His eyelids fluttered open, and they were unclouded and alert. He began a slow, fervent whispering in my ear as I pulled him up to be seated. I dropped more kisses across his stomach, across the span of his shoulders. He met my gaze and tilted his head back, arching his neck. I leaned in and gave him a soft kiss on his lips. It tasted of butterbeer and chocolate. Then, I sat beside him on the bed and leaned into him. His throat was so warm beneath my lips and his pulse beat frantically beneath my touch. I opened my mouth and flicked my tongue over the skin. He made a small, sharp, hissing sound. I pressed my lips to the spot.
Then, there was a shout and a figure rushed into the room. The soft, snuffling sounds from the next bed stopped abruptly, and a coppery head peered out from between the silks. The figure had me by the wrist, dragging me away from the bed. His hair slid across his white face, almost obscuring the features completely. My betrayer.
“Not quite gone. Not quite forgotten.” He said archly, a sneer on his face. His robes were open, his chest bare. Where once the skin had been untouched, there was now a web of cuts across his chest, mirroring the scars that I knew spanned his back.
“Persephone.” He spat the word. It was a warning, just that one word. His grip was like steel, and I could feel the hammering of his heart. Not so long before, I had heard the hammering of that heart and felt that touch, a softer touch then, in much pleasanter circumstances. The boy had snatched his wand from the bedside table; his glasses were askew on his nose. The spell had been broken. I turned to the professor, tried to meet his gaze and failed. I tenderly smoothed his hair away from his face. I laid a finger to his lips. A small, cruel smile played on his lips.
“Come, leave him. Your secret is safe with me.” He whispered.
I slipped down the stairs, down the hallway, alone, to cloak myself in shadows once more.
********
“I don’t exist without a lover/fix
And I’m nothing without a heart overstuffed to the brim of bursting
With murder in its wake.”
“Human” by Maria McKee from the album “Life is Sweet” (1996)